


fires and liars

by bukkunkun



Series: Make It Worse [5]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Character Death, Bad Ending, Character Death, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, Lingerie, M/M, Marriage, Mental Breakdown, Mind Break, Mind Control, Mind Rape, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Nothing goes right, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Underage - Freeform, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, like really bad, like waaayyy far now, there's a lot of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 07:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: Peter confronts Beck on Tower Bridge.And then, the rest of their lives after that.PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. IT WILL GET TERRIBLE. GENUINELY TERRIBLE.





	1. fires and liars

**Author's Note:**

> > fires and liars? more like emotional whiplash: the fanfic
>> 
>> — 🔮 bukkun, MSc 🕷 (@trickscd) [September 2, 2019](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1168542084371927042?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> **THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING.** I will not even be posting a silly message at the start this time, this is a warning that the content ahead will stoop to lows that I doubt anyone would've been willing to go to. I advise you all to read this fic when you are sound of mind, or are at least capable of handling and comprehending the dark content you are about to see. **Beloved characters will die.** Problematic themes, such as rewarding terrible behaviour, will be depicted.
> 
> **This fic will not have a happy ending. PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE PROCEEDING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**
> 
> on a lighter note, thank you so much, everyone, for sticking with me! make it worse is now officially finished, but it will have two (2) more spinoff fics for you to look forward to! Thank you for the 14k+ hits on wine and crime! it's been an honour to provide this story for <strike>myself</strike> everyone. (*´꒳`*)
> 
> please, enjoy this massive shitstorm of a burning garbage can! until the spinoffs!

“_Hello, Quentin._” 

EDITH’s HUD suddenly lit up in front of him, and Beck’s head jerked up, pulling away from the straw in his mouth, lighting up as he shot up onto his feet. Beside him, William jerked in alarm, almost dropping the Alienware on his lap. 

“What the—Quentin, what’s going on?” He stammered, but the man hushed him, waving at him dismissively as he pushed the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He said. 

“_The puppy sitting protocol has been activated._” EDITH reported, and Beck’s lips curled up into a vicious, triumphant grin as William’s eyes widened. “_Shall I start a live feed?_”

“Yeah, go for it.” He said, striding away from the other man, gesturing for him to leave. “Gimme some breathing room for a sec, William?”

“U-uh, sure.” The man nodded. “I’ll be back in a bit so we can finish off the London scenario?”

“Yep,” Beck gave the man a thumbs-up, and William stepped out of the room. “Okay, EDITH. Tell me where Peter is.”

“_He is currently in Broek op Langedijk, the Netherlands._” EDITH replied. 

“Show him to me.” Beck nodded. 

The image of Peter being carried into a jail cell appeared in his vision, and Beck’s eyes widened as four men gingerly pulled his suit open, removing the bloodied, torn Kevlar off his body, leaving behind the undershirt and leggings underneath. 

Beck took a sharp breath, his heart racing at the sight of Peter—_alive. _ Barely breathing, but very much _ alive. _ The men gently cleaned up the teen as best as they could with the rudimentary first-aid kit the police station had, and Beck’s breath caught in his throat when he watched Peter wince, shivering.

“Oh, Peter,” He breathed, his expression darkening when one of the men pulled his shirt off to put it on Peter’s shivering form. “Oh, baby, I’ll come get you.”

“_A side trip to Broek op Langedijk will delay your ETA to London by 5 hours._” EDITH chimed in, and Beck swore under his breath, shaking his head as he turned around, frowning in thought. He began to pace, humming impatiently as he rubbed at his chin. 

“What to do…” He murmured, watching as the men bundled Peter between themselves inside the cell as the teen dozed off. He smiled softly, reaching out as if to touch Peter’s cheek, but he stopped, knowing he wouldn’t be able to feel the teen’s warmth on his fingers. 

He had no choice—he had a schedule to keep in London, a bunch of kids and an extremely paranoid man to kill. Beck’s expression hardened, and he shook his head.

“Stay where you are, Peter.” He murmured, “I promise I’ll come back for you.”

Behind him, William peeked at him from where he had opened the door a slight crack, and looked down at his laptop, a conflicted look on his face. He took a hesitant little breath, and he shook his head, shutting the door behind him as he left Beck alone.

The man watched Peter’s head nod in fitful sleep, and he slowly smiled again, content with just watching the teen sleep, watching the way his wounds quietly stitch themselves together until Peter was mostly himself again.

Oh, he was wonderful—beautiful, powerful and frightening all at the same time. All that power, that amazing healing factor, the sixth sense, amazing athleticism and strength—Peter’s beautiful, beautiful mind, his golden, trusting heart—it was hard _ not _ to fall in love with him. Beck thumbed at the wedding ring on his finger, grinning a little wider. 

Soon, he thought. Soon, Peter will be back, and this time, he would be back to _ stay. _

* * *

The illusion was way, _ way _bigger than Peter thought it would be. 

His eyes widened as he and Happy approached London, watching the way the giant image of the Elemental wrapped around London’s Tower Bridge. 

“_You sure that thing isn’t real?_” Happy asked incredulously. 

“Yeah, it’s just way bigger than I thought it would be!” Peter shouted over the roar of the wind around them. “We gotta get higher so Beck can’t see us coming!”

“_Copy._” Happy replied. “_Stay sticky._”

Peter nodded to himself as the plane flew higher, and his nerves began to act up again the closer they got to the bridge. He swallowed nervously, and tried to calm himself down. 

“Happy!” He called. “We need to talk later!”

“_Wh-what? About what?_”

“We need to talk about you and my aunt!” He shouted, and he didn’t wait for Happy’s reply, letting himself go as they got high enough. He shot down to the ground, and he deployed his parachute, taking a deep breath as he made his descent. 

This time—

This time, he’d make sure of it. 

He’ll stop Beck, no matter what it takes. 

No one was going to die today—not a single person in London, not Peter’s classmates, not Happy, and _ especially _ not Ned or MJ. 

This time, Peter was going to win, or he would die trying. 

* * *

He was right, in the end. 

Heroes always came back, they always did. 

He didn’t feel anger, he didn’t feel frustration, like he thought he would, watching Peter web up the drones within the illusion, forcing them to go out of formation. Beck’s face split into a manic grin as he monitored the way Peter leapt from drone to drone, chaining them together with a web rope, and all he could do was laugh. 

He laughed, loud and unhinged, delight corrupted with manic glee as the rest of his team began to panic at the sidelines. 

“EDITH, patch me through to the inner drones. Localised sound, I don’t want myself broadcasted to the whole world, just inside the illusion.”

“_Broadcasting._”

“Peter Parker!” He cheered, throwing his arms out wide at either side of him, “Welcome back to the land of the living!”

* * *

Peter jolted, looking down at the drone he was perched on, his eyes widening at the sound of Beck’s voice coming from it. Panic surged in his chest, clogging up his throat, and he leapt off it, latching onto another one as he linked it up with the other drones he’d already webbed up. 

“_I know you’re in there, sweetheart. Daddy can see you._” 

Peter shuddered, but he forced a little laugh between his lips. 

“I dunno, Mr. Beck, my dad’s dead.” He said, webbing up another drone, and he immediately regretted his quip when Beck laughed—a truly genuine, _ beautiful _laugh that made Peter’s heart flutter, despite everything. The teen winced, jumping away from the drone to get another one. 

“_Baby, you’re hilarious._” Beck said with a warmth that Peter almost wished was genuine. The teen’s expression fell as he landed on another drone, hesitating. “_Being a little brat is a good look on you too, who knew?_”

“Lay it off, Beck,” Peter snapped. “I know everything out of your mouth is a lie.”

“_Not everything, Peter._” Beck said, surprisingly softly, and Peter froze. “_Yes, I hurt you, but don’t you think for a second it didn’t mean I was hurting me too, watching you be in so much despair._”

Peter bit his lip, hard, and he shook his head. 

“You liar.” He bit back, and slapped another web rope on the drone he was on. 

“_Yeah, okay. You’re _adorable_ when you cry._” Beck sneered, and oh, _ god _ the fear was settling in again. Peter took a shaky breath, and went on to the next drone. “_But I always want to be the one to wipe your tears away, to kiss it all away and make things better._”

“You wanna make things better? Give up now while you still can.” Peter replied, webbing up three more drones. 

“_Peter, baby, I love you._” Beck said, and it made Peter’s stomach twist in disgust, fear and hope to hear it said so damn _ genuinely, _ with all the honesty Peter had always wished to hear in those three pretty little words. “_And that’s exactly why I won’t give up._”

“Wrong answer.” Peter said shakily, and he leapt off the drone, looking up at them as he reached for the symbol on his chest. “Please let this work…”

He winced, and pressed down on the trigger. A jolt of electricity shot out from the web rope connecting him to the drones, and he lit up as he watched the electric charge spread across the webbing, lighting up like a Christmas tree. Around him the image began to fail, and he lit up, smiling slowly at the sight of sunlight coming back into his vision as he landed on a drone. 

“_No!_” Beck gasped, and Peter’s grin widened as the man came into view, standing in the covered bridge right across him. 

“Show’s over, Beck.”

* * *

Beck whirled around, meeting Peter’s gaze with a panicked look on his face. 

“EDITH, give me some protection.” He said, as the teen shot out at him.

“_Copy._” She replied, and a flock of drones charged at Peter, knocking him aside as he fell down towards the road below. When Peter was out of sight, Beck’s grin slid right back onto his lips, and he turned to look at the drones around him. 

“No, Peter,” He chuckled darkly. “The show has only just begun.”

* * *

It was total chaos out there. Peter could barely process anything, acting on pure instinct as he fought off the drones that kept coming for him. He could hear Happy’s laboured breathing in their intercom, the only sliver of hope he cling onto that they were alright. Peter knew Fury could take care of himself—if Beck was even targeting the man, and knowing Beck, he _ would— _but he couldn’t help but worry about him, too, even if Fury had been unreasonably hard on him through this whole thing. 

He dove behind an upturned car, grateful that no one was on the bridge anymore, looking up at the dark London sky, wincing as he anticipated the rain to fall. It was dark above him, and he couldn’t help but think about how fitting it was—bleakness, just as Peter was fighting for his life, for his friends’ lives. 

He looked up at the section where a large concentration of drones flew around, frowning as he thought about Beck, knowing the man was right in the middle of it. Happy said he’d bought himself and Peter’s friends some time, but he knew they were running out of it, and _ quickly. _

He pressed at his palms, cursing under his breath. “No more webs.” He grumbled, and looked around. 

Think—he had to think. He couldn’t give up now. 

Peter saw a downed drone, twitching weakly on the ground, and he hurried towards it, eyes wide. He watched it let out intermittent pulses, and an idea formed in his mind. 

He’d seen it before, in the fight at Avengers compound. Peter had heard about Mjolnir, about how it worked, judging the worthy, and as he fashioned himself a weapon and picked up a shield—the sign for the Tower Bridge, go figure—he felt himself choke up slightly at the thought of the original Avengers. 

Thor was offworld. He’d never met Black Widow properly, but Tony had sometimes mentioned she would’ve liked him. He would’ve liked to have known her, too. Hawkeye was retired now, and Peter couldn’t blame him for wanting to leave that life behind. Hulk—Dr. Banner—was still around, but with that injury, Peter wasn’t sure if he could still do his duties as an active Avenger. He would probably never be able to again.

More than that, Cap and Tony were gone, now. The Avengers were irrevocably changed now, never again to be the same as before, and some part of Peter wished he could turn back time and joined them earlier. He wished he didn’t turn Tony down back then, he wished he joined the Avengers earlier, made friends with all of them for longer—

But regrets remained in the past, and all Peter could do was move on forward. He carried their hopes on his shoulders, now. He was the next generation of Avengers, and he would not let Tony Stark down. 

Peter charged forward towards the drones, using his shield to make his way through gunfire before he threw his makeshift Mjolnir into the air with a mighty shout, causing a rippling explosion to tear through the air. He used the momentum from it to throw himself up into the bridge, shooting up to the ceiling to grab Beck by the collar of his mocap suit, his fist flying to smash the man’s helmet. Peter hoisted him up above the ground, panting heavily. 

“Your lies are over, Beck.” He said shakily, finally looking Beck in the eye after so long being apart, and he could feel it again—the curling heat from the drug that he couldn’t get rid of from his veins. “You can’t trick anyone anymore.”

“This certainly isn’t ideal,” Beck said casually, and Peter’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of him—dishevelled, hair in a messy tousle and cuts on his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was still so damn _ handsome, _ why Beck still sent waves of want and longing through him, no matter what the man did to him. The older man seemed to realise Peter’s hesitation, and _ smirked. _

“_Oh, fuck._” Peter hissed, feeling his arousal start to stir, mortification and disgust curling in his gut to mix with his want in a heady, dangerous mix. 

“But I do have my contingencies.”

** _WATCH OUT!_ **

“EDITH?”

Peter let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sensation of the Peter Tingle, but he couldn’t quite react in time to brace himself for the sudden pulse shot at him by one of the drones behind Beck that he’d failed to notice. Peter flew back towards the end of the corridor, slamming against the ground and rolling repeatedly until he hit the wall, knocking the wind out of his lungs. 

He coughed weakly, getting up as he clutched at his gut, feeling old wounds opening up again. He shook his head, throwing his mask off to glower at Beck, and the man met his glare with an even smile. 

“Just… give me the glasses.” He panted. 

“Oh, Peter… do you want these?” Beck asked, pulling EDITH out of his clothes, and Peter’s expression hardened on him. “But you gave her to me, my baby. You can’t just take your gifts back, not when you gave me _ everything _on a lovely little silver platter.”

“_You _ made me give you everything.” Peter snarled. “You lied to me, you—you _ raped _ me, you took _ everything _from me.”

His hands balled into fists, shaking with rage. 

“I will keep taking more of you, my sweet little puppy.” Beck grinned, putting EDITH on. He spread his arms at Peter, as if beckoning him to come closer. “If you want her, Peter, come to daddy.”

The world around him plunged into darkness, and Beck disappeared, leaving Peter alone in a dark room filled with that haunting green gas. 

Peter grit his teeth, feeling fury bubble in his blood as he forced himself to calm down, shutting his eyes as he took a deep breath. 

_ I won’t let you down this time, Tony. _

He felt a ghostly touch on his hand, instincts taking over him as he dodged to the side at the first sound of a gunshot, and soon he was on the move, ducking under and over unseen enemies as he let the Peter Tingle guide him. It was like a dance, stepping around, jumping over drones and sending them careening into each other, stabbing one through and ramming it into another. 

It was exhilarating—and the whole way through, it felt like Tony was right there with him, the guiding voice of his sixth sense. He only opened his eyes again when he suddenly heard a familiar shout, and he realised he’d reached the other side of the corridor. He left a trail of destruction in his wake, and he gasped when he saw Beck on the ground, leaning against the wall with a hand on a growing patch of red on his abdomen. 

Peter’s heart shot to his throat. 

Oh, god. The shout was Beck’s. Beck had been shot by one of the drones. 

He felt tears sting his eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from limping to Beck’s side, dropping to his knees and unmindful of the broken glass next to the man as he laughed softly. Peter sniffled, feeling a sob worm its way out of him as Beck weakly turned to look at him with a withered smile on his face. The teen lowered his head, shaking in both fear and anger as the older man reached up to cup his cheek in his bloodied hand. 

“You’re… really adorable… when you cry.” He said, gently lifting Peter’s face to meet his gaze, smearing his blood on Peter’s bloodied skin. His smile was so soft, so damn _ soft _that it made Peter start crying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he begrudgingly leaned into Beck’s touch. 

“I hate you.” Peter whispered, though he himself wasn’t sure if his tears were of regret, or rage. “I hate that even after everything, I’m still—I still care about you.”

“No, you don’t.” Beck murmured, and Peter sniffled, gripping Beck’s hand against his cheek. 

“I… I don’t hate it.” He admitted. “I… I really liked you, Mr. Beck. I thought what we had… I thought I could be happy with what we had.”

“We could… have had… it all, baby.” 

“No. We couldn’t—we won’t.” Peter pulled away from him. “You lied to me. I trusted you.”

“You know… that’s the most disappointing part.” Beck winced, and Peter let out a weak sob as the man reached for him. “Peter… you’re a good person. I fell in love with you… because of that.”

“No.” Peter said shakily, dodging Beck’s hand. “You can’t trick me anymore.”

Beck laughed tiredly. “I suppose not.” He replied, but he raised his hand to show Peter his wedding ring. The teen’s eyes widened at it, a tear rolling down his cheek to mix with Beck’s smeared blood on his skin, and the man took it off, taking Peter’s left hand to hold it at the tip of his ring finger, as if ready to put it on him. “Maybe this time _ you _ can trick _ me._”

“Mr. Beck…” Peter breathed. 

“Lie to me, Peter. Just… this once.” The man said weakly. “Grant me my dying wish to hear you say you love me.”

Peter gaped at him as Beck slid the ring onto his finger. 

“Do you love me, Peter?” He asked, holding Peter’s left hand with his own left hand while his other one cupped Peter’s cheek. He thumbed at the ring tenderly, and the teen deflated as the man pressed their foreheads together. “I love you.”

Peter’s heart thundered in his ears. He could hear his Tingle screaming in his head. 

“Do you love me?” Beck repeated. 

** _YOU DON’T, YOU SHOULDN’T, DON’T DO IT!_ **

He squeezed his eyes shut. Beck was dying. What else was there that he could do?

Peter did like him—felt the attraction between them since day 1, and he was the better man of the two of them, he knew he didn’t have to lie. 

“I do.” He said shakily, and Beck leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. EDITH pressed against the bridge of his nose painfully, but Peter ignored it, savouring his last kiss with Beck—

“_Confirmation received, Peter. Executing kill order._” EDITH said. 

Suddenly, Peter heard the sounds of pained, terrified screaming, punctuated by gunshots and shattering glass. 

His eyes widened, his body jerked in shock as he yanked himself away from the man, who suddenly began to laugh—a haunting, terrifying sound that stabbed right into Peter’s heart as the man sat up straight, grabbing him by his arms. There was a manic look in Beck’s eyes, wild and triumphant, and Peter’s gut sank when he realised that the man wasn’t dying at all. 

No, he wasn’t even hurt. 

“You wanted EDITH back, didn’t you, baby boy?” He leered, tearing the sunglasses off his face, and he shoved them onto Peter’s. “Here she is! Here’s what you’ve done!”

It was too much. 

The ruined sight of the Tower Bridge vault. The destroyed antiques, the scattered jewels on the ground along with the broken glass. 

The blood. 

The broken bodies. 

The shattered smartphone screen, splattered with blood and still broadcasting the feed live, where he could see scrolling comments of alarm and shock fill the screen. 

Peter’s eyes filled with tears as his mind struggled to process the sight. No—no, they weren’t dead. Not Betty. Or Flash. Not Happy—_Ned. MJ. _

“They’re not—they’re not dead.” Peter said, his voice a hollow echo of life, his mind beginning to splinter into madness, the sound of cracking glass overwhelming in the sudden rush of silence around them. “_ No, _this isn’t—this isn’t happening.”

“It’s _ real, _Peter.” Beck chuckled darkly, pulling Peter to his feet gently, a juxtaposition of grace and kindness to the horrific scene EDITH displayed on her HUD. “EDITH, honey, blow up the image to a room sized illusion.”

“_Projecting._” EDITH replied, and the world around them dimmed along with the restoration of Beck’s illusion outside. 

Beck pulled Peter into his arms, pressing the shell-shocked teen’s back against his chest as he hugged him close. He leaned down to nose at Peter’s temple tenderly, smiling at the sight of corpses littering the ground around them. 

“You killed them, Peter.” He said sweetly. “Told our sweet little EDITH to kill your friends. Little Miss MJ, who you love so dearly. Little Mister Ned, who trusted you with their lives.” 

His voice oozed like poison through the cracks of Peter’s fractured heart, his shattering mind, as his breaths grew shallow, watching EDITH’s HUD disappear from view as Beck took the sunglasses off him to put on. Now, there was no blue hue separating him from the world at large—the _ truth _at large, the sight of his dead friends on the ground thanks to the order he gave. 

_ No— _he didn’t give any order.

“It wasn’t me.” Peter said shakily. 

“Oh, baby boy, it _ was _you.” Beck purred, taking Peter’s chin and lifting it to force the boy to see a vision of himself, standing across him. His doppelgänger faced him boldly, eyes green with the sheen of that drug running through his veins, and Peter’s eyes widened, his tears running down his cheeks freely now as the scene rewound time, his friends back on their feet and staring down a group of drones that had stopped in front of them. 

“_Do you want me to execute the kill order, Peter?_” EDITH asked. 

“I do.” His doppelgänger said, a knife digging into Peter’s heart, into his gut, gouging out his eyes and slicing his throat open into ribbons. The scene played out again, and Peter finally screamed, jerking back into Beck’s unrelenting grip as the man forced him to watch his friends dying again. 

He listened to the sound of Peter’s sobs as the teen could only watch, and weep. He clung onto Beck as one by one they dropped like stones, their blood running like flooded rivers between cobblestone flooring. 

“You only have me now.” Beck said tenderly, holding Peter close, his grin wide and manic as he rubbed Peter’s back reassuringly. “No one will love you now, you little murderer. You have blood on your hands, just like me.”

He chuckled darkly, burying his hand in Peter’s hair in a tender hold. “Just like _ all _ the other men who like to prance around and call themselves _ heroes._” He spat the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he pulled away from Peter to study his face, committing the sight of his tear-stained cheeks to memory as dark, burning _ want _grew in his gut. He grinned down at Peter, and kissed his forehead. 

“But I love you all the same. I love you _ even more _for it.” He said. “Peter, be mine again, and we’ll be so happy together.”

He cupped Peter’s cheek in his hand, and the teen nodded, eyes unfocused, heart shattered and mind broken. His eyes were completely glazed that perfect green colour now, just the colour he’d been working hard for, the indicator that the Symbiote pheromone he’d been using to bend Peter’s mind to his will finally completely broke the boy’s almost-unbreakable will. 

“Yes,” Peter breathed, as if _ terrified _ that Beck would let him go, leave him too, disgusted by the blood that stained his hands, disappointed in his _ failure. _ Tears rolled down his cheeks unbidden, unnoticed as the boy began to sob anew, holding onto Beck desperately. “Yes, I’ll be yours, Mr. Beck. Please don’t leave me alone, _ please._”

Beck watched his handiwork, and _ preened. _

Peter—_his _ Peter—was _ beautiful. _ A work of art. A gorgeous, sweet puppy of a boy, of a _ toy _ to play with and a weapon to _ kill _with. An Avenger, one with Iron Man’s mind and Captain America’s physical strength and healing factor, now Beck’s loyal dog, eager to please, thriving to be obedient.

“I’ll be good this time,” Peter begged, “Daddy, please. Make it stop. It _ hurts._”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Beck chuckled, kissing Peter deeply as he heard his team cheering over the intercom, congratulating each other on a job well done. By now, the scenario would be over, and Beck was glad he’d made sure they had contingencies in case the illusion failed. By now, the world was hailing him a hero. 

By now, Mysterio was being called the world’s next Iron Man, and the first step to erasing Tony Stark’s name from the annals of history was taken. 

Life was good. 

He saved the day, got the boy, was hailed a hero, and no doubt now a rogue Avenger of sorts, a hero who didn’t need a team to save the world. 

Mysterio was the truth the world will see, and Quentin Beck was the man who saved it. 

He pulled away to smile at Peter sweetly, and the teen shook his head, surging forward to hug him tightly. Beck laughed fondly, kissing Peter’s hair. “Will you do anything I want, baby?”

“Anything, daddy.” Peter replied. Soulless, just the way Beck liked it. “I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t leave me alone! I’ll love you, I promise!”

Beck leaned down to kiss his lips again, and Peter threw his arms around the back of his neck to deepen their kiss. When they parted for air, Beck grinned down at him, cupping his cheek tenderly in his hand. 

“Good boy.” He said warmly. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get to work—Daddy’s gonna come see the Queen for a moment, and then we’ll be all alone together again, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter smiled sweetly, and took Beck’s hand as they began to walk out. “Oh, daddy!” He jumped. “I remember you mentioned collaring me up so I don’t ever get lost again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Beck nodded, letting Peter go to pull a beautiful green leather collar from his pocket. Peter let out a little gasp as the man gently fastened it around his neck, gently toying with the silver heart charm with Peter’s name on it. He smiled, looking Peter over with such a loving look in his eyes, and the teen flushed prettily, shuffling bashfully under the man’s gaze. “_Beautiful._” He breathed, brushing the back of his fingers over Peter’s cheek. “You’re mine, you got it?”

Oh, this was depraved. 

But he’d _ won. _And this was his spoils. 

Peter was worth all the trouble. Stark’s legacy in this beautiful, intelligent boy—now gone, his shining star of a protégé now reduced to a cockslut murderer, held prisoner in his own broken mind and pumped high with highly illegal Symbiote pheromone mind control drugs. 

Maybe demons really could have happy endings. 

“I’m yours, Mr. Beck.” Peter said softly, his bashful look and beautiful vacant eyes an absolutely picturesque sight to behold to Beck. “I’ll _ always _ come back to you, Daddy.”

The man beamed at him. “I love you so much, Peter.” He said warmly, and kissed Peter’s hand where he still wore Beck’s wedding ring. “When we get home, remind me to give you your own ring. For the time being, you can have mine.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Peter chirped, hugging Beck’s arm as the man opened the exit door for him. “I love you too.”

* * *

“Daddy! How was the meeting today?”

Beck hadn’t even gotten two steps into his beautiful Manhattan penthouse apartment before he was tackled by a blur of white, and he laughed, looking down to see Peter smiling up at him dreamily, his embrace warm and familiar around his midsection. Beck was out of his suit when he wasn’t on active Avengers duty, and as of late he’d taken to wearing turtlenecks to the regular meetings that the new Captain America, Sam Wilson, held. 

(There were a few Avengers he’d already made acquaintances with, and at some point Scott Lang whistled at him when he involuntarily blushed about being asked about his turtleneck.)

Peter liked them, too. He was especially fond of the black one, and absently toyed with the gold chain necklace around Beck’s neck as the man locked the door behind him. Gently Beck moved Peter further into their apartment, huffing fondly as he got a good look at the brunet. 

The boy was still in the lacy white babydoll he’d put him in that morning, a lovely contrast to the green leather collar that Peter refused to take off, unless he had to head out on missions. He looked up at Beck with stars in his eyes, and Beck stroked his hair soothingly, pecking Peter’s lips gently. 

“They’re still mourning the loss of Fury, but I think they’ll get over it.” He said. “Princess Shuri asked about you today again.”

“What’d she say?” Peter asked. 

“She just misses you a lot.” He pinched Peter’s cheek lightly, and the teen laughed, blowing him a raspberry. “Now, baby, tell me how your search went.”

“Oh, I found it, Daddy!” He said excitedly, taking Beck’s hands and pulling him along their apartment. The man laughed, still unused to Peter’s amazing strength, but he let the teen lead him to their bedroom, his jaw falling slack at the sight of Peter’s Iron Spider suit fully assembled, standing upright in front of their bed. There was a severed hand in its arms, still bleeding fresh blood, and in the hand’s palm sat a glimmering little red stone, unpolished with a rough cut. The hand had dark nails, several gaudy rings still on the fingers. It ended off into a stump somewhere halfway through the forearm, and Beck could see the remnants of a sleeve that had an expensive-looking fur cuff at the end. 

Peter beamed proudly as Beck’s eyes widened at it, approaching the suit with little mind to the severed hand it was presenting to him. 

“I got it off some creep who said he wanted me in his collection, but I told him no.” He said, hugging Beck’s arm as the man carefully picked the stone up in his hand. “Then he said he’d only give the reality stone to me if I said yes, so I just killed him and took the stone instead.”

Beck looked down at Peter, bewildered, and the teen met his gaze pleadingly. 

“I know you said quietly, but he was being such a creep.” Peter whined, “I had some Kree dude fly me there anyway, so I had to get rid of him, too, or he’d find out.”

“How’d you get back, baby?” Beck asked, pulling his arm away from Peter to wrap it around the teen’s waist, fiddling with the hem of his babydoll absently. 

“I used the stone.” Peter replied. “Are you mad at me, daddy?”

“No, of course not, sweetheart.” Beck chuckled fondly, and he kissed Peter deeply, swallowing the relieved sigh that escaped Peter’s lips with a smile. He pulled away to stroke the teen’s face tenderly, and Peter smiled up at him sweetly. “I’m so happy you got me this, baby. I better make it up to you.”

“I’m glad,” Peter replied, wrapping his arms around the back of Beck’s neck as the older man picked him up easily by his thighs, carrying him into bed and setting him down delicately. The contrast of Peter, pure and lovely in that sweet combination of the white lace and chiffon babydoll and panties, against the dark burgundy of their silk sheets made arousal stir in Beck’s gut as he climbed on top of Peter, a predatory grin on his face. “I dressed up all nice for you like this morning because I was worried you’d get mad at me.”

“Nonsense,” Beck snorted. “You’re nothing but perfect, Peter.”

“Aw, Mr. Beck, that’s so sweet.” Peter blew him a raspberry, and the man laughed, reaching down to tickle him viciously. The teen burst out laughing, delighted giggles filling their bedroom together, and eventually Peter began to kick at him. “Uncle! I give!”

Beck kissed him deeply, silencing their laughter into Peter’s happy, contented hum, the wet slide of their lips together ringing loud and clear in their ears as the mood between them shifted. They pulled apart for air, Peter reaching up to cup Beck’s face in his hands, and his eyes were soft. 

Tinted green and blank as ever, but soft. 

“I love you, Quentin.” He said quietly, sincerity and warmth in his voice, and Beck turned his head to kiss Peter’s palm, relishing the feel of the wedding ring on Peter’s finger against his skin. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He replied, sitting up. “Let me see your ring?”

The teen nodded, sitting up to let Beck take the ring off his hand, and the man’s lips spread into a leer at the perfect ring of needle injection dots around Peter’s ring finger. He eyed the tiny LED lights that displayed a little number on the inner side of the ring, and hummed thoughtfully. 

“EDITH,” He said. 

“_Yes, Quentin?_”

“Renew our wedding vows, would ya?”

“_Opening the Intelligent Dispensary Operator._” A panel opened up at the side of their bed, and Beck got up to watch three stands of ring holders appear. They were on top of a mounted container, filled about three quarters full of dark green fluid, and Beck set the ring down on an empty holder next to two other stands that had two rings each on it. He picked one up, nodding at the tiny 100% at the side, and turned back to look at Peter, who was lying on his side, head rested on his palm as he watched Beck work. 

He smiled when Beck met his gaze, and he held out his hand at the man, spreading his fingers as he cocked his head. 

“C’mon, daddy. I wanna wear our ring while we have sex.”

Beck laughed fondly, but slid the ring back on Peter’s finger, tutting when his boy winced at the sensation of the needles sliding into his skin again. He pressed a kiss to the ring, making Peter smile warmly before he lay back, pulling Beck along with him by his turtleneck’s collar. 

“Hey, watch it, that’s gonna get loose, and everyone will see what you’ve been up to on my neck.” Beck warned, but he was grinning, leaning over Peter as he straddled the teen’s waist. 

“Then let them see. I want them to know you’re mine.” Peter replied, leaning up to kiss him deeply, and the man kissed him back, slipping his tongue into Peter’s mouth and enjoying the way he moaned against his lips. They parted for air, panting softly, and Peter giggled. “I sure am not hiding your bruises on my thighs, daddy.”

“Not all of us have your healing factor, you little brat.” Beck laughed, poking Peter’s nose, and the teen burst out laughing. Beck kissed him again to shut him up, and moved down the column of Peter’s neck, leaving behind new marks with his lips and beard that made Peter squirm in delight underneath him. 

“Ooh, daddy, _ yes._” Peter hissed, throwing his head back into their pillows as his hands came up to tangle in Beck’s hair. “Daddy, what do you wanna do to me today?”

“Hm.” Beck pulled away from him to inspect him, and Peter smiled dopily up at him, waiting patiently for his answer. The older man smiled, and gently brushed his fingers against Peter’s cheek. “I want to fuck you slowly today.”

Peter blinked at him, adorably confused, and the man laughed gently, sitting up in bed and gesturing for Peter to do the same. The boy hurried to do as he was told, kneeling in front of Beck with his head cocked, and the man kissed him softly.

“I’m feeling a little… sentimental.” He said. “It’ll be our anniversary soon, baby. And then, not long after that, your birthday.”

Peter’s eyes widened. 

“And then I can finally marry you.” He breathed. 

“Yeah.” Beck nodded, taking Peter’s hand, and he kissed the ring on his finger. “Soon, we can make it official. Then you can be Peter Beck.”

“Peter… Beck.” Peter echoed, and smiled widely, nodding. “I love it.”

“Me too.” Beck hummed, and kissed him again. He wrapped his hand around the back of Peter’s neck, holding him in place as he shuffled forward, deepening their kiss. Peter’s eyes slid shut, his arms coming up to pull Beck closer, and their tongues slid together in a slow, languorous slide of wet heat between their lips, making Peter shiver at the sensation. Beck’s other hand slid down Peter’s side, toying with the soft fabric of Peter’s babydoll before sliding under the hem to trace up Peter’s body, a slow, hot spread of heat in the shape of Beck’s palm over Peter’s abdomen. 

“Daddy,” Peter breathed as they parted for air, and Beck shook his head, letting go of Peter’s neck to press a finger to his swollen, spit-wet lips. 

“Quentin.” He said softly. “Peter, today, I want to fuck you as your future husband.”

“Husband.” Peter had stars in his blank eyes, and he nodded, smiling widely as he pressed a kiss to the tip of Beck’s finger. “Okay. We’re not playing today?”

“No.” He said, moving his hand further up Peter’s babydoll to gently press down on Peter’s left nipple. The teen gasped, moaning softly as he arched into Beck’s touch, and the man’s grin widened. “I’m feeling a bit romantic.”

“Okay, Quentin.” Peter replied, not quite the way EDITH did, but it still put a smile on their faces. “That’s really sweet.”

“What can I say, baby?” Beck chuckled, moving his other hand down Peter’s body to squeeze his stocking-clad thigh sensually, and the boy shivered in delight. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Peter leaned up to kiss him as Beck absently squeezed and fondled Peter’s perfect, beautiful thighs. His other hand was busy playing with Peter’s nipples until they hardened into perfect little nubs, and Beck relished the way little sounds of pleasure escaped from Peter’s mouth as they kissed. They parted for air, Beck grinning down at a happily-sighing Peter, and the man held Peter by his hips, pulling him to kneel up straight in front of him, bringing his chest to Beck’s eye level. “Quentin? What’re you doing?”

“I love your cute little nipples.” He said, voice gravelly as he inspected Peter’s chest, noting the way pink nipples peaked under delicate white chiffon, and he grinned wider. He leaned forward to press a kiss to one of Peter’s nipples, and the teen gasped, buckling against Beck’s grip on him involuntarily. 

“Oh, my _ god._” Peter breathed, his hand balling into a fist in Beck’s hair as the man began to suck at his nipples. He soaked the fabric through until it was translucent with his spit as he rolled Peter’s nipple between his lips, nipping lightly with his teeth. “_Oh!_”

Beck sucked and nipped at them until they were tender, and by then, Peter was shaking, shivering in Beck’s arms as his erection obscenely tented his delicate lace panties. 

“Peter, you’re so _ gorgeous._” Beck murmured, pulling away to observe his handiwork, smiling wider at the sight of Peter’s flushed face. “Even though we’ve had sex so many times before, it always feels like our first night together.”

“Y-you make me feel so good, Quentin.” Peter said shakily as Beck helped him pull his babydoll off, his breath catching in his throat when Beck threw it aside carelessly. “I’ll never—I’ll never get over it.” 

The man grinned at him, shrugging easily. “Now that’s just laying it on thick.”

“I mean it!” The teen pouted, and Beck laughed, pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chuckled, and the brunet huffed, shaking his head exasperatedly. 

“Make it up to me, then.” Peter stuck his tongue out at Beck, and the older man laughed again, making the brunet grin before he leaned in to kiss him, slow and sensual. Peter hummed pleasantly as Beck reached down to his straining cock, lace and silk pulled taut over the wet spot of his cockhead, and shivered when the man’s large hand wrapped around his erection. “Mm, Quentin, you’re still fully clothed.” 

“Maybe I want to stay clothed.” Beck replied, and Peter pulled away, pouting at him. The man gave him a wink, booping his nose, and the teen wiggled it, frowning. “I’m just kidding, baby.” He said, and he gently pushed Peter away from him to start pulling his jacket off. 

“Can I help you out?” Peter asked, and Beck gestured at his trousers, where his own erection began to tent the fine cloth. The teen lit up, and got to work on getting rid of Beck’s belt, yanking it out with one hand while the other one undid Beck’s fly, digging into his briefs with the desperation of a man starved. 

Beck laughed fondly, tossing his turtleneck aside to join Peter’s babydoll on the floor, and he stroked Peter’s hair. “How about I move back up the bed so I don’t fall off the end, huh?”

“Maybe I want to see you falling over.” Peter replied smoothly, and Beck burst out laughing, making a beautiful smile spread across Peter’s face. “I don’t wanna let you go, Quentin.”

“It’ll only be just a sec, you needy little thing.” He replied easily, pushing Peter aside gently to move up the bed. He kept a firm grip around Peter’s wrist, leading him alongside him as he leaned against the headboard, and he pulled the teen onto his lap. “There.” He said, spreading his legs, and the teen blushed prettily as he looked down at Beck, gingerly lacing their fingers together. “Doesn’t _ this _look familiar.”

“S-shut up.” Peter stuttered, and the man chuckled fondly, leaning up to kiss him softly. 

“Let’s try it again soon, baby.” He said, “I had a lot of fun watching you come undone when I gave up and rode your cute little dick.”

“Daddy,” Peter shakily gasped, and Beck kissed him deeply to ground him. When they parted, he pressed his forehead against Peter’s, and smiled at him softly. 

“But let’s do that another time. Aren’t you supposed to be busy with something?” Beck murmured, and Peter nodded hastily, moving down his lover’s body to turn his attention back to Beck’s crotch. He pulled the man’s trousers and briefs down to his thighs, and practically salivated at the sight of his erection bobbing out as he released it from his underwear.

“Ah…” He breathed, wrapping his hand around it with innocent, child-like wonder, and Beck hissed past a grin on his face, precum leaking from his cockhead as Peter squeezed his cock gently. 

“Hey, baby, don’t get too distracted now, I thought you were undressing me?” He said, but he groaned when Peter ignored him, leaning down to swallow down half of Beck’s cock. “Oh, _ fuck. _ Peter, baby, your _ mouth._”

Peter hummed around the dick in his mouth pleasantly, wiggling his ass in the air as he went down on Beck, taking as much of his erection into his mouth and throat as he could. The older man groaned, throwing his head back against the headboard as Peter pulled off his cock, giving him cute little kitten licks at the weeping head as his hands got to work pulling the rest of Beck’s clothes down his legs. 

The teen sucked his cock down again in one smooth, hot sweep, moaning happily as he tasted Beck’s precum on his tongue. It twitched in his mouth, and he jerked in helpless pleasure, whining desperately as his hips rutted against Beck’s leg. 

“That’s it, baby,” Beck panted, stroking Peter’s hair tenderly for a moment before he balled his fist in it, tugging on his hair to earn him a choked gasp from the teen on top of him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt Peter’s throat squeeze his cock on reflex, groaning loudly as he humped into the welcome warmth, holding Peter’s head down as he shallowly fucked his throat. “Oh, Peter, you’re such a good boy.”

He felt the boy’s throat spasming around him, and he yanked Peter’s head off his lap, grinning at the obscene way Peter’s lips were swollen and pink, shiny-wet with spit, and his grin only widened when he saw a drop of his precum sliding down Peter’s plumped bottom lip. He wiped it away with his thumb, but the teen moved down to lick the droplet off Beck’s finger.

“Oh?” He hummed bemusedly. 

“You taste so good.” The boy moaned softly. “I can’t get enough.”

“God, Peter, you’re so perfect for me.” Beck groaned, pulling Peter up into a deep kiss, tasting himself on Peter’s tongue as the teen’s hands came up to pull Beck closer. “Let’s get you opened up.”

“There’s no need,” Peter murmured against his lips, and Beck pulled away from him, frowning in confusion. The teen gave him a cheeky little grin, taking his hand and pulling it behind him, pressing Beck’s fingers against his surprisingly wet panties—

And Beck’s eyes widened when he felt the handle of a butt plug. 

“I couldn’t wait for you to get home.” He whispered, flushing a pretty pink, and Beck gaped at him as Peter pressed his ass into his hands. “I didn’t cum, I promise… I just… I wanted to be ready for you when you come home.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Beck breathed, and kissed him, hard. Peter giggled happily against his lips as he moved up to shimmy his panties down, but Beck’s hand clamped around his wrist. He pulled away from him, cocking his head, but Beck shook his head. “I’ll just push them aside. I want to be in you, _ now._”

“W-wait, Quentin, what if they tear?” Peter stammered, but the man shook his head, kissing him deeply as he moved the panties aside, poking the butt plug inside the teen. The brunet jerked away from him, gasping as his eyes went wide, and Beck’s grin widened, watching Peter squirm on his lap. “W-wait! It-it’s right against my—” Beck pressed down on the plug, angling it slightly where he knew it would press right against Peter’s prostate, and it worked like a charm. The teen’s back went ramrod straight, his grip growing hard on Beck’s shoulders, where he knew there would be bruises the next day. “O-_oh! Quentin!_”

“God, baby, you’re gorgeous.” Beck breathed, burying his face in the crook of Peter’s neck to leave hickeys on his skin, fucking him with the toy as Peter’s hips jerked helplessly back against Beck’s palm on his ass, on his hand fucking him open with the toy. “I love you so damn much, Peter.”

“I-I love you too, Quentin.” He panted, his hands coming up to cup Beck’s face. “Q-Quentin please, I-I’m so close, I want you in me, _ please—_”

“Okay, okay,” Beck said gently, pressing his forehead against Peter’s, and the teen sighed, leaning into his warmth as the man gently picked him up to set him down on the bed, resting his head against the pillows comfortably. Peter spread his legs for him, looking up at him with hopeful eyes as Beck held his thighs open. The older man carefully pulled the plug out of him, and he grinned slightly when he realised that it was the largest of the set he’d gotten for Peter a few months back. “Oh, Peter. You’re so eager.”

“I wanna feel you slide right in, Quentin.” Peter said, spreading his legs even wider until he was doing a split, and Beck’s mouth felt dry. He licked his lips at the sight of his boy presenting himself to him, and Peter looked up at him pleadingly. “Please?”

“How can I say no when you ask me so sweetly?” Beck hummed fondly, giving himself a firm pump before he pressed his cock right against Peter’s entrance, hissing softly at the welcoming heat at the tip of his cockhead. “You ready, baby boy?”

Peter nodded eagerly, and Beck pushed into him. It was always such a pleasure to watch, the way Peter’s eyes widened like as if it was the first time he’d ever taken a cock in his life. His mouth fell open in a soundless scream as Beck split him open. 

The intrusion was _ big, _ hot and almost unbearable in pressure, even with Peter stretched out on his biggest toy, and Beck’s expression crumbled as the slow, hot drag of his cock sent pleasure shooting up their spines.

“_Fuck, _ Peter.” He breathed. “You’re so _ tight, _ even after all that prep.”

“Nnh, Quentin—” Peter reached for him, and Beck met his hand halfway, lacing their fingers together as he leaned down to kiss him. He sheathed himself in all the way, and he muffled Peter’s shout of alarm between their mouths as he buried himself in Peter’s smaller body, the head of his cock pressing hard against the teen’s prostate. He pulled away to watch the tears spilling down Peter’s cheeks as pleasure overwhelmed him, his body twitching at the sensation of Beck’s cock inside him, stretching him out with an utterly _ delicious _burn. 

“I love you,” Beck panted, pulling away from Peter to press their foreheads together. He pulled himself out of Peter until only the tip of his cock was inside. “I love you so much, Peter.”

“I love you too.” Peter sighed, smiling up at Beck with teary eyes, and the older man leaned down to kiss them away, relishing the way Peter’s gasp escaped shaking lips as he slid back in, a smooth, slow burn that he could feel all the way in his gut. “A-_ah, _Quentin—”

Beck could only grunt in response, as his hips began to roll against Peter’s, thrusting into him in slow, sensual movements, where the heat was white-hot to almost unbearable between them. Pleasure built in a slow cascade rather than their usual torrent, and Peter was squirming under him, unused to the sensation of slow sex. 

“Q-Quentin, please—I’m—I’m going crazy—” Peter begged, and the man kissed him deeply to silence him, his thrusts still that slow, steady pace that somehow only sharpened the sensation more. The places where their bodies touched, skin on skin, felt like searing burns, the air escaping their breaths hotter than the fires that torched London down almost a year ago. They parted for air, and the teen desperately wrapped his arms around the back of Beck’s neck. “Please—please, I’m so close—”

“I love you,” Beck said again, voice gravelly with want, thick with emotion as he reached down to grab Peter’s cock, still trapped in the confines of his panties. “Baby, I love you so much.” 

Peter was incoherent now, lost to the pleasure as Beck began to jerk him off, his thrusts steadily growing deeper, harder, faster, and his voice broke off into breathy, broken moans of pleasure.

“Ah—ah—_ah, yes—_”

“I love you,” Beck growled, feeling his own orgasm building inside him. “I love you so much, I love you, I love you—”

Peter was the first to come, his spine going ramrod straight as he spilled his load inside his panties. He whined softly, but he reached up to pull Beck down for a deep kiss, squeaking in alarm when Beck came inside him, flooding his insides with hot cum. The both of them rocked against each other weakly, riding out the aftershocks of their orgasms, until they parted, panting heavily as Beck held himself up above Peter. The man cupped Peter’s cheek in his hand, and Peter smiled dreamily up at him, that beautiful haze of green over his eyes as bright and overwhelming as always. 

(He would miss just the pure brown of Peter’s eyes, but that was a small price to pay for the rest of his heart, his soul, his body.)

“Do you love me too, Peter?” He asked softly, stroking Peter’s cheek with his thumb as the boy nodded happily, kissing Beck’s finger as it brushed over his lips.

“I do.” He replied. “I’ll always love you, Quentin.”

And they lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > it’s bukkun @ marriage kink hours huh
>> 
>> — 🔮 bukkun, MSc 🕷 (@trickscd) [September 2, 2019](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1168374852752834560?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> you: renew our vows?  
me, embarrassed: **I**ntelligent **D**ispensary **O**perator. I do. 


	2. make it worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper Stark discovers a terrible, terrible secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > me: writes a series called make it worse  
also me, when things inevitably do go worse: [pic.twitter.com/xr1L2IVe4g](https://t.co/xr1L2IVe4g)
>> 
>> — 🔮 bukkun, MSc 🕷 (@trickscd) [September 1, 2019](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1168191225687470080?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> do you think i can stoop any lower ? you bet your ass i can.

“Mommy, it’s bedtime already.” Morgan said quietly from where she stood at the doorway, and Pepper jumped in her place, whirling around to see her little girl rubbing at her eyes sleepily. The strawberry blonde sighed, laughing tiredly as she shook her head, running her hand through her hair. She got up, pulling on a silk robe over herself as she made her way over to Morgan, and knelt down in front of her.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry I forgot. I’ll be right there in a minute, okay?” She said, kissing Morgan’s forehead, and the little girl smiled.

“Okay.” Morgan mumbled, and looked at her mother’s laptop. “Why are you working late again?”

“Oh, I was just,” She made a vague gesture at it. “Sorry, Mommy has a little project she’s working on.”

“Is this about Uncle Happy?” She asked, and Pepper deflated. The little girl looked pensive, and cocked her head. “Are you gonna do what Daddy did and go back in time to save him?”

“No, I—” She took a shaky breath. “I can’t do what your father did, honey.” She hesitated, and shook her head. “And May wouldn’t want me to do that. She’s lost both your Uncle Happy and Peter, she can’t lose them again.”

Morgan frowned. “I don’t get it.” 

Pepper laughed sadly, and she shook her head. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

The little girl frowned, but she nodded, crossing her arms. “But wait… isn’t Peter Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, he is, and—”

“That’s weird, I saw him the other day.” Morgan said, and Pepper’s heart stopped. Her blood turned to ice in her veins, and she blinked down at her daughter in horror. 

“Y-you _ what?_”

“I saw him the other day.” Morgan repeated, and her words dissolved into a yawn. Pepper patiently waited for her to speak again, unable to trust herself to form words at the sheer _ horror _ dawning on her. “He was out in town the other day, I saw him while I was on my way home with Mr. Hector.”

Pepper tried not to grab Morgan too hard, but her hands were shaking as she squeezed her daughter’s shoulders. 

“Morgan, sweetie, where did you see him?” She asked shakily. Morgan blinked up at her mother in confusion, but she didn’t panic. 

“Downtown Manhattan,” She replied, “I don’t remember exactly _ where, _ but I’m pretty sure it was him! FRIDAY said so!”

“Oh, my god.” Pepper said shakily, dropping to the ground, and Morgan jumped, hurrying to her mother to hug her tightly. “Oh, my _ god. _ May needs to know.”

“What’s going on, Mommy?” Morgan asked fearfully. “Is Peter okay?”

“He’s—he’s _ alive._” She breathed. “That means—that means—”

She turned to look at her laptop, and her breath caught in her throat. Mysterio’s face looked back at her as the search finally finished, and Pepper’s eyes widened. 

“May was right. We should’ve checked the archived versions.” She breathed, getting up, scooping Morgan up into her arms as she returned to her laptop. “Oh, my _ god. _ She was right. She was _ right, _ we should’ve never trusted him.”

She whirled around and looked at her desk. Tony’s old helmet sat next to her own, and Pepper’s expression tightened. 

“We’ve been compromised.” She said, and Morgan cocked her head at her. “Morgan, sweetie, no one can know that we know.” Pepper said sternly, and Morgan nodded nervously. “You can’t tell _ anyone _about this, okay?”

“Okay.” Morgan nodded. Pepper sighed, kissing her daughter’s temple as she sunk to the ground with a heavy sigh. 

“Quentin Beck…” She muttered, “What made you do this?”

She’ll figure it out. It was terrifying, for sure, but she wasn’t about to leave Peter alone, wherever he was. May was counting on her to get to the bottom of this. 

Tony would have done the same for her, if he was in her shoes. Pepper knew her husband saw Peter like his own son, loved for him as much as May did. 

She would save Peter, if not for his sake, then for Tony’s. 

“Morgan,” She said, and the little girl nodded. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mommy.”

“I promise, I’ll bring Peter back. I won’t ever let the same thing happen to you.”

Morgan hugged her a fraction tighter. 

“I know you won’t.” She whispered. 

Pepper held her daughter impossibly closer, sighing shakily. She couldn’t imagine how it felt like, she couldn’t bear to think of how things would be if she’d lost Morgan the way May lost Peter. 

She didn’t want to know—_she won’t let herself know. _

It had been a while since she put the suit on, but good old RESCUE was as good as any of the suits Tony made for the fight against Thanos. 

In fact, it was the _ best. _The best of the whole lot. 

She could only hope it would be enough. 

“Mommy, what’s that?” Morgan asked, and Pepper’s eyes widened. 

“What?” She breathed, and the sound of guns cocking filled the air. Pepper’s blood went cold, and her heart shot into her throat, clogging it painfully. 

“Did you really think a careful man like me would have left that mistake behind?” Mysterio’s voice echoed through the room, and Pepper got up, carrying Morgan with her as she whirled around, panicked. Her breaths grew shallow as fear seized her, holding Morgan close as she inched closer to her helmet. 

“Beck?” She called out, “What did you do to Peter Parker?”

“It’s Beck now, actually.” Mysterio himself stepped out from the shadows, chuckling darkly. Pepper nervously watched him move, hating the fact she couldn’t see his face through the mist in his helmet. 

“Beck?” She breathed. 

“We got married recently. He’s been nothing but wonderful, did you know that?” Mysterio said, and Pepper’s gut turned in disgust. 

“He’s just a kid.”

“He turned 18 about a week ago.” Mysterio shrugged. “Not that _ that _stopped me since a year ago.”

“You’re _ disgusting._” Pepper spat, and the man laughed at her darkly. 

“And a winner,” He wiggled his fingers at her. “It’s unfortunate you were stupid enough to come looking for things you weren’t supposed to, but I suppose it pays to have contingencies _ everywhere._”

Pepper opened her mouth to speak—

“Goodbye, Mrs. Stark.” 

* * *

It was like London, Beck realised, as he took his sunglasses off after watching the blood stain the floor. The sight reminded him of a most wonderful time—the day he became a hero, the day Peter fell in love with him, the day Beck’s dreams of revenge finally began to see realisation.

Comfortably lounging in a king-sized bed next to the love of his life in sleepy, post-coital bliss seemed like the perfect way his life could go, and now Beck didn’t even need the Symbiote pheromone anymore.

Mounted on a little charm, the Reality Stone rested above his heart, hanging from the gold chain that Peter always loved seeing on him. With it, Beck could become even more than his illusions, the drones around him, the limits his body hindered him with. 

With it, he _ was _ Mysterio, bending reality around himself to make the universe obey _ him. _

He didn’t need the Stark drones anymore, but they were certainly still very useful. Maybe just not to Mysterio, but to Quentin Beck. Sometimes, little hits required a more… _ human _ touch. Sometimes all you needed was a little human ingenuity, and not some mind-breaking cosmic energy that supported a sixth of the living universe. 

He was glad he and Peter realised that the universe would not exist without the Infinity Stones. Together, they managed to figure out Thanos’s lies, where the stones were, and how to get them. 

Sure, some people had to die, but it was worth it, in the end.

He looked down at Peter, sleeping contentedly by his side, and Beck’s smile at him was soft.

Everything was worth it. 

He settled back down next to Peter, who stirred awake. 

“Quentin…?” He mumbled, but the man pressed a kiss to his lips, making the younger man smile, cuddling into his husband’s chest to fall asleep. 

Yes, it was all worth it. Everything was different now—he made it worse, and yet infinitely better. 

The world was different now, but that was the new reality. The new truth of Mysterio, the world at large. 

The dawn of a new era—one where Beck will always, _ always _live happily ever after—

Whatever it takes.

**Author's Note:**

> > heyyyyy timeline. you've got a few hours to decide the ending of the make it worse series.
>> 
>> — 🔮 bukkun, MSc 🕷 (@trickscd) [September 3, 2019](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1168791745213026304?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> this is why the ending looks like this. don't say i never did anything for you guys !


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